30th Street Station will always be my favorite. I've looked at its soaring ceiling while waiting for my father to come home, while fleeing my brother's death, while trying to warm up or cool down on yet another journey. I am small and large, young and old in that place. In the midst of such transmigrations, I've got a lot of reading done in 30th Street.
Last time I was there, days ago, I decided to check out the station's bookstore. Though I was nicely prepared for my trip with a few issues of I Love Bad Movies and a copy of lost traveler Cookie Mueller's Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black, I figured that I'd kill some time away from the ghost smell of McDonald's past. Amid the usual magazines and Victorian porn novels, the bookstore carries Tin House, displays Two Dollar Radio and other small pub books, and boasts a decent sci fi and short story section.
Debating whether to buy a (gasp! full-price) novel, I headed up to the counter, behind which the several staff members screamed catchphrases at one another in a jovial manner and avoided eye contact. Hmm. The door looked locked. "Are you closed," I asked. "Yeah," grunted the security guard.
After all, no matter how good the surprises, it is still Philadelphia.
###
A new thing that the New Jersey Transit train has been doing is being a time machine. Before every stop the speakers emit the strangled warble of a dial-up modem before announcing that you are not as close to your destination as you thought. No superhighway, then or now.
###
It is no secret that the anachronistic nature of train travels is part of the appeal. Despite today's florescent lights we can all be an incognito heiress or a man on the run on the train from big city to bigger city. There are always people to watch. If you are lucky, layovers include not only a reasonable bathroom but also food made by a human. The newly remodeled (well, new in the timeline of government and memoir) Trenton train station has both of those things. Despite my love of old things, I am so glad that the former Trenton transit center is gone, taking all of those chicken grease, brown-lit, bad boyfriend memories with it.
Showing posts with label pretzels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pretzels. Show all posts
Monday, May 06, 2013
Friday, September 28, 2012
trip book style
I took a most relaxing vacation. I missed SPX and the Brooklyn Book Fest and Theo Ellsworth and everything, but I promise that I did my part in between redwoods, oaks, MUNI, METRO and fish watching and fish breakfasts.
Since we stayed in Silverlake for two nights, I had to check out Secret Headquarters. I barely made it ot of there with adding tens of pounds to my already book-laden luggage. Because I cannot drive I must walk and this sends me to Fairfax when I am in L.A. Not only does the lovely and talented Chez Mo live very near, but the Farmer's Market, Family Bookstore and Cinefamily are all on the row. Nothing grabbed me at FB, but I paced and dug until I pulled up HAV by Jan Morris. The intro by scifi legend Ursula K. LeGuin sold it.
When several people tell me that I'll just love something, I start to feel a little uneasy. This usually means that the something is something horrible. I guess I just give off that vibe. So, when we hopped on the Expo line to Culver City I was a little apprehensive. The Museum of Jurrassic Technology did not disappoint, however. I picked up No One May Ever Have The Same Knowledge Again: Letters to Mount Wilson Observatory 1915-1935, edited and transcribed by Sarah Simons. This book not only arouses the urge to write letters, but also contains some sweet telegram spam:
Most of the time between LA and SF involved nature and driving and basking. I read my airport-bought The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. It was sufficiently distracting, but ultimately bloodless, despite pretending to be a romance. I spent most of my time breaking into a new journal with entries describing warm weather, drawing pictures of my luggage and listing the various plants I saw that day for our leather-clad, cyborg, future kids.
I finished The Night Circus by San Francisco. At Borderlands Books, I traded it in for a bit of credit and picked up the anthology Firebirds Rising edited by Sharyn November and the Tachyon Press chapbook A Flock of Lawn Flamingos by Pat Murphy. Firebirds Rising is YA, an unpleasant surprise that I could have avoided with a closer reading of the cover. The troubled teens helped pass the flight back and included two stories that I really liked by two weirdo masters: "Quill" by Carol Emshwiller and "The Wizards of Perfil" by Kelly Link. A Flock of Lawn Flamingos was a sweet and simple ode to troublemakers. I read it on the way to work my first day back to Midtown, letting the story take me back to California.
Now that I am back, life has taken a sad and shitty turn, so I especially relish the worry-free reading and writing time I had.
 |
| blurry enough? |
When several people tell me that I'll just love something, I start to feel a little uneasy. This usually means that the something is something horrible. I guess I just give off that vibe. So, when we hopped on the Expo line to Culver City I was a little apprehensive. The Museum of Jurrassic Technology did not disappoint, however. I picked up No One May Ever Have The Same Knowledge Again: Letters to Mount Wilson Observatory 1915-1935, edited and transcribed by Sarah Simons. This book not only arouses the urge to write letters, but also contains some sweet telegram spam:
Most of the time between LA and SF involved nature and driving and basking. I read my airport-bought The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. It was sufficiently distracting, but ultimately bloodless, despite pretending to be a romance. I spent most of my time breaking into a new journal with entries describing warm weather, drawing pictures of my luggage and listing the various plants I saw that day for our leather-clad, cyborg, future kids.
I finished The Night Circus by San Francisco. At Borderlands Books, I traded it in for a bit of credit and picked up the anthology Firebirds Rising edited by Sharyn November and the Tachyon Press chapbook A Flock of Lawn Flamingos by Pat Murphy. Firebirds Rising is YA, an unpleasant surprise that I could have avoided with a closer reading of the cover. The troubled teens helped pass the flight back and included two stories that I really liked by two weirdo masters: "Quill" by Carol Emshwiller and "The Wizards of Perfil" by Kelly Link. A Flock of Lawn Flamingos was a sweet and simple ode to troublemakers. I read it on the way to work my first day back to Midtown, letting the story take me back to California.
Now that I am back, life has taken a sad and shitty turn, so I especially relish the worry-free reading and writing time I had.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
friends of try harder: good stuff
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Brothers, lovers & British women
Abandonware by An Owomoyela on PodCastle is an excellent SF story about grief, siblings and powerful love. Owomoyela captures so much about the experience of a "shrinking family," the strange, painful tension between the roles of child, adult and sibling and the strange rituals required for "moving on." I don't believe in moving on exactly, more like moving through, but this story was a nicely wrought piece of sibling fiction.
Here's an interesting interview with Owomoyela at Fantasy Magazine.
&&&
The other blogger in my house finally posted something! If you like music and blurry pictures, you will love this mega post.
&&&
Because I lost two awesome books in a row, my subway reading dwindled to reading those eerie "Does NYC need church?" ads and NY Post headlines. This was not sustainable, so after a very long class I went to the library on campus and checked over their paltry fiction section for something to distract on the ride home. At first nothing seemed to grab me from the college-bookshelf collection, but then I saw Leonora Carrington's The Hearing Trumpet. It was a nice edition and looked intriguing. I'm loving it so far with its wise and anarchic old ladies and precise, pulsing language. I can't wait to dive back in. That's one of her amazing paintings on the cover. After I finish the book I want to find out more about her art.
Here's an interesting interview with Owomoyela at Fantasy Magazine.
The other blogger in my house finally posted something! If you like music and blurry pictures, you will love this mega post.
Because I lost two awesome books in a row, my subway reading dwindled to reading those eerie "Does NYC need church?" ads and NY Post headlines. This was not sustainable, so after a very long class I went to the library on campus and checked over their paltry fiction section for something to distract on the ride home. At first nothing seemed to grab me from the college-bookshelf collection, but then I saw Leonora Carrington's The Hearing Trumpet. It was a nice edition and looked intriguing. I'm loving it so far with its wise and anarchic old ladies and precise, pulsing language. I can't wait to dive back in. That's one of her amazing paintings on the cover. After I finish the book I want to find out more about her art.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thursday, October 07, 2010
birthday bonanza
I forgot to tell you about the best gift I got for my birthday. Sorry for leaving you on the edge of your seat.
On the day we left for Portland, two packages awaited me in the pile of crap that usually constitutes my mail. They were both from my Mom and contained an assortment of well-chosen items of practical use, well, practical if you are me. Which you are not. (I hope!)
My mother and I have been reading Muriel Spark books--picking up whatever copies we find in thrift stores and used bookstores and trading them back and forth. My mother was apparently doing some research because, several months ago, she told me that ol' Sparky had once written a children's book. And, get this, the illustrations were by Edward Gorey, friend to odd children everywhere! We jokingly put it on the wishlist at Unnameable Books and went on with our day.
You know where this is going:
My mother never ceases to amaze me. The above is an enjoyable example of that trait, and I try to relish those.
On the day we left for Portland, two packages awaited me in the pile of crap that usually constitutes my mail. They were both from my Mom and contained an assortment of well-chosen items of practical use, well, practical if you are me. Which you are not. (I hope!)
My mother and I have been reading Muriel Spark books--picking up whatever copies we find in thrift stores and used bookstores and trading them back and forth. My mother was apparently doing some research because, several months ago, she told me that ol' Sparky had once written a children's book. And, get this, the illustrations were by Edward Gorey, friend to odd children everywhere! We jokingly put it on the wishlist at Unnameable Books and went on with our day.
You know where this is going:
My mother never ceases to amaze me. The above is an enjoyable example of that trait, and I try to relish those.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
in and out of my brain
There has been talk in my twitter feed about inspiration, so I thought I'd share some of my recent inspirations with you. I tend to accrete viewpoints and styles in large bursts, usually because of travel or several days alone, and therefore outside of the motions of the everyday. Some influences (Studs Terkel, Marianne Faithfull, sailors' attire) are longstanding, others last a month, a year, and usually lead me to other, better thoughts.
Inspiring now:
Radiolab
Maximus Clarke interviews William Gibson on Maude Newton
The Dear Sugar column on The Rumpus, #25 on
Final Girl, especially her reviews
Nature Illustrated: Flowers, Plants, and Trees, 1550-1900 in the NYPL's Digital Gallery
image from NYPL
Inspiring now:
Radiolab
Maximus Clarke interviews William Gibson on Maude Newton
The Dear Sugar column on The Rumpus, #25 on
Final Girl, especially her reviews
Nature Illustrated: Flowers, Plants, and Trees, 1550-1900 in the NYPL's Digital Gallery
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Today was the first day of classes and I am already reeling from the amount of information I am intended to absorb in the next few months. So far the classes seem interesting and tougher than last semester. The amount of administrative eff ups was strangely comforting, like I am really in school and know the drill now. Sad, huh?Oppression. Depression. Repression. The blacktress knows them all. Can you handle her? She should move to Philly where people speak the truth!
Guess who's back? Not The Ruler, but 50 Books herself! I missed her with in a way that no amount of boy baby pictures could fill.
"... they were hilarious, powerful, tough, loud, et cetera et cetera all good comic making material! But then sometimes, man, the main thing about them is that they just got screwed, big time."
Kate Beaton uses a little color to comic about the perils of learning more about the women of history.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Debbie Drechsler draws nature between freelance illustration assignments. If you like mushrooms and other fungi, Just Around the Corner is where it's at. And though I can't find mention of it anywhere on her sites, she is also the author of the comic books Summer of Love and Daddy's Girl. I first saw her work in Twisted Sisters 2: Drawing the Line when I was a young gal, and again and again now when I page through my copy.The most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time:
From Twig & Thistle, via Letter Writers Alliance
The NYPL is on twitter. Their offerings so far have been a mix of news, quotes from books in the catalog and links to images, which is ok, I guess, but something is missing. A voice perhaps?
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
when the day is long
Two from Strange Horizons:
I have never been a father or been in contact with inscrutable aliens, but I imagine it would be a lot like this. "All the Anne Franks" by Eric Hoel
The always thought-provoking Matthew Cheney on returning to meat-eating. This guy writes like I wish I could.
### ^^^ ###
How to draw a baby when she is stuck to you from Lauren Weinstein. I am loving her new-mother sketches.
### ^^^ ###
These Christmas cartoons from Kate Beaton made me laugh even though this time of year makes me want to gouge out my eyes and yours.
(image via Morbid Anatomy)
I have never been a father or been in contact with inscrutable aliens, but I imagine it would be a lot like this. "All the Anne Franks" by Eric Hoel
The always thought-provoking Matthew Cheney on returning to meat-eating. This guy writes like I wish I could.
How to draw a baby when she is stuck to you from Lauren Weinstein. I am loving her new-mother sketches.
These Christmas cartoons from Kate Beaton made me laugh even though this time of year makes me want to gouge out my eyes and yours.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
likes
I am required to do a lot of listening these days. Sometimes I am a good listener, and other times I am a "good listener."
I've also been trying to disappear a little, perhaps in response to October's frantic socializing. Night before last I finished Nine Ways to Disappear and I think I picked up some tips.
^^^^^^
The Bright Side Project gives away small business art treats everyday for the price of a well-written comment. Much of the stuff is a tad girly-nesty for me, but I am a fan of all the stationery picks.
^^^^^^
A longtime friend and I have recently started a snail mail volley that keeps me excited about opening my mailbox each day. It kind of reminds me of senior year of high school, when most of my friends were already away at college and kept me informed through breathy letters at least once a week. It was wonderful at a time when so much wasn't.
Over at Viva Snail Mail!, paper correspondence is product, muse and news. I wish she would update more.
I've also been trying to disappear a little, perhaps in response to October's frantic socializing. Night before last I finished Nine Ways to Disappear and I think I picked up some tips.
The Bright Side Project gives away small business art treats everyday for the price of a well-written comment. Much of the stuff is a tad girly-nesty for me, but I am a fan of all the stationery picks.
A longtime friend and I have recently started a snail mail volley that keeps me excited about opening my mailbox each day. It kind of reminds me of senior year of high school, when most of my friends were already away at college and kept me informed through breathy letters at least once a week. It was wonderful at a time when so much wasn't.
Over at Viva Snail Mail!, paper correspondence is product, muse and news. I wish she would update more.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Here is a terrible picture of a beautiful print by Eleanor Davis that I just got back from the framing place.
Davis and her husband, Drew Weing, are two of the best cartoonists working today. You can find her work all over, but I am hoping for more minis soon.
Monday, July 20, 2009
la-la-la links
This is a perfect description of those instances that make one feel wetly smothered by other peoples' emotions:
"And it's hard to remember that most of what you absorbed was meant to be discarded. You chop insults and carry grudges all day long, til there is no time left for anything else."
&&&&&
This post is a little old, but it contains the first discussion of samizda (Russian for self-published) I have ever read.
&&&&&
What have you been up to -- What I have been up to
I have been scratching the insect bites inflicted upon my already pink and dingy skin by dive bar mosquitos. All over my legs, red welts rise up like some kind of chaste pox. No fun at all. Still, it was worth seeing an old friend to marvel over the details of pasts long gone and enjoy much of what the piers have to offer. These visits are always too short and I am left wondering what kind of temporal flux I would enter if I went back to Philly for longer than two days at a time. It is both a repulsive and dreamily compelling thought.
&&&&&
The Prog Lady is back, in more ways than one, and all is well in the world.
"And it's hard to remember that most of what you absorbed was meant to be discarded. You chop insults and carry grudges all day long, til there is no time left for anything else."
This post is a little old, but it contains the first discussion of samizda (Russian for self-published) I have ever read.
What have you been up to -- What I have been up to
I have been scratching the insect bites inflicted upon my already pink and dingy skin by dive bar mosquitos. All over my legs, red welts rise up like some kind of chaste pox. No fun at all. Still, it was worth seeing an old friend to marvel over the details of pasts long gone and enjoy much of what the piers have to offer. These visits are always too short and I am left wondering what kind of temporal flux I would enter if I went back to Philly for longer than two days at a time. It is both a repulsive and dreamily compelling thought.
The Prog Lady is back, in more ways than one, and all is well in the world.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Sunday is for...
Today we were doing some easy bike riding. We then decided to go down by the Hudson and relax, but neither I nor MM brought a book. So went to Housing Works Books and I lost my shit.
exhibit a) Like Son by Felicia Luna Lemus: I read about this when it came out from Akashic Books. Plus, how could you resist the Edward Weston portrait?
exhibit b) Slow Storm by Danica Novgordoff: I saw excerpts of this on the web somewhere and it stuck in my mind.
exhibit c) Science Fiction Cinema by Geoff King and Tanya Krzywinska: This was 70 cents, heavily underlined and bound to be a laff riot.
exhibit d) The Vet's Daughter by Barbara Comyns: It's NYRB and I'm no fool.
exhibit e) St. Lucy's Home for Girl's Raised by Wolves by Karen Russell: I heard it was good and enjoyed Russell's reading on the now RIP (?) KGB bar radio podcast.
Instead of heading to the river after dropping my 25 dollars, we went to a coffee shop and talked about serial killers and played Scrabble until the sun went down.
What did you do this Sunday?
exhibit a) Like Son by Felicia Luna Lemus: I read about this when it came out from Akashic Books. Plus, how could you resist the Edward Weston portrait?
exhibit b) Slow Storm by Danica Novgordoff: I saw excerpts of this on the web somewhere and it stuck in my mind.
exhibit c) Science Fiction Cinema by Geoff King and Tanya Krzywinska: This was 70 cents, heavily underlined and bound to be a laff riot.
exhibit d) The Vet's Daughter by Barbara Comyns: It's NYRB and I'm no fool.
exhibit e) St. Lucy's Home for Girl's Raised by Wolves by Karen Russell: I heard it was good and enjoyed Russell's reading on the now RIP (?) KGB bar radio podcast.
Instead of heading to the river after dropping my 25 dollars, we went to a coffee shop and talked about serial killers and played Scrabble until the sun went down.
What did you do this Sunday?
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
This issue of Conjunctions, with stories by Elizabeth Hand and Shelley Jackson, made me subscribe: "Postfantasy fictions that begin with the premise that the unfamiliar or liminal really constitutes a solid ground on which to walk."
%%%
I enjoyed Kate Beaton's Mystery Solving Teens even though she forgot the part where they make out.
%%%
Mouth-watering food-pornery at Last Night's Dinner. If you are the angry sort, you might call it yuppie-flavored, but I'm just going to enjoy it. Besides I am picking up from my CSA today and I don't want to be a hater just because my camera sucks.
I enjoyed Kate Beaton's Mystery Solving Teens even though she forgot the part where they make out.
Mouth-watering food-pornery at Last Night's Dinner. If you are the angry sort, you might call it yuppie-flavored, but I'm just going to enjoy it. Besides I am picking up from my CSA today and I don't want to be a hater just because my camera sucks.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Some things about MoCCA
1) I can't believe that I missed Kate Beaton.
2) I saw a ton of oversized minis this year. It's a neat idea, but if I can't carry it home with me from the con without crushing it then maybe it's not such a good idea, you know?
3) There weren't many prints this year--good for my wallet, bad for my walls.
4) Speaking of my wallet, I overspent by almost twice my budget in a handful of hours. That's how much good stuff there was.
5) The armory was an interesting space, at the least, even though the giant openness lent a trade-show feeling to the affair.
6) The sketch tables were poorly positioned and advertised so I didn't even know what was happening there until SEC was toiling away behind the tables. A lot of people missed out on great sketches by her and many others.
7) I saw Jason, all by himself, drinking a Diet Dr. Pepper on the corner. I stared at him; he looked away.
8) I had fun with the Indie Spinner Rack guys. Their new book looks really good.
9) Madison Square Park is an excellent place to take a post-con nap.
My haul (above), B's below
I didn't stay very long at the show either day, didn't interview anybody, didn't take any pictures and actually enjoyed myself. Working during conventions isn't fun for anyone... but if you want to chat, drop me an email.
2) I saw a ton of oversized minis this year. It's a neat idea, but if I can't carry it home with me from the con without crushing it then maybe it's not such a good idea, you know?
3) There weren't many prints this year--good for my wallet, bad for my walls.
4) Speaking of my wallet, I overspent by almost twice my budget in a handful of hours. That's how much good stuff there was.
5) The armory was an interesting space, at the least, even though the giant openness lent a trade-show feeling to the affair.
6) The sketch tables were poorly positioned and advertised so I didn't even know what was happening there until SEC was toiling away behind the tables. A lot of people missed out on great sketches by her and many others.
7) I saw Jason, all by himself, drinking a Diet Dr. Pepper on the corner. I stared at him; he looked away.
8) I had fun with the Indie Spinner Rack guys. Their new book looks really good.
9) Madison Square Park is an excellent place to take a post-con nap.
I didn't stay very long at the show either day, didn't interview anybody, didn't take any pictures and actually enjoyed myself. Working during conventions isn't fun for anyone... but if you want to chat, drop me an email.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Last night, in preparation for a long journey, I went book shopping. Most of my time was spent in Housing Works’ bookshop on Crosby St., my favorite in New York. I found what I was looking for and had an iced tea. Though The Strand, my next stop, has them beat with selection, Housing Works Bookstore & Café is just plain pleasant to shop in. Why not have your next internet date there?
Last night’s experience reminded me of a similar, deliciously private experience I had amid last weekend’s family tension. I visited Feldman’s Books for the first time. I got to overhear sexy gossip from the awesome clerk (not the owner) and her friend while browsing the fiction section, eavesdrop on an, um, especially close mother and son in the paperback building and curse my main man in the shack-like bathroom in the garden. If my suitcase hadn’t already been bursting, I would have browsed the excellent art section more carefully. Instead I stuck to fiction.
I found not only a rare novel by wild woman Caroline Blackwood, but a nice Penguin Muriel Spark novella I'd never seen before and the perfect airplane book (review to come) as well, all for under twelve bucks. I was excited to see that they had 2 copies of Robinson, my favorite Spark novel, a copy of Project Superior and multiple Kathryn Davis books on the to-the-ceiling shelves.
I am not the only fan. I wish I had taken a picture. It would have been titled "Carrie Tryharder Takes a Holiday from Her Holiday," and once that lucrative mousepad contract was signed, I could spend all of my time jetting across the land supporting indie bookstores as I go.
Menlo Park, which is essentially a main street downtown and clusters of suburban homes has three bookstores. Where is Hell’s Kitchen Books, or Tenth Avenue Tomes, or Grande LibrerÃa Infierno?
What are some of your favorite bookstores?
Last night’s experience reminded me of a similar, deliciously private experience I had amid last weekend’s family tension. I visited Feldman’s Books for the first time. I got to overhear sexy gossip from the awesome clerk (not the owner) and her friend while browsing the fiction section, eavesdrop on an, um, especially close mother and son in the paperback building and curse my main man in the shack-like bathroom in the garden. If my suitcase hadn’t already been bursting, I would have browsed the excellent art section more carefully. Instead I stuck to fiction.
I found not only a rare novel by wild woman Caroline Blackwood, but a nice Penguin Muriel Spark novella I'd never seen before and the perfect airplane book (review to come) as well, all for under twelve bucks. I was excited to see that they had 2 copies of Robinson, my favorite Spark novel, a copy of Project Superior and multiple Kathryn Davis books on the to-the-ceiling shelves.
I am not the only fan. I wish I had taken a picture. It would have been titled "Carrie Tryharder Takes a Holiday from Her Holiday," and once that lucrative mousepad contract was signed, I could spend all of my time jetting across the land supporting indie bookstores as I go.
Menlo Park, which is essentially a main street downtown and clusters of suburban homes has three bookstores. Where is Hell’s Kitchen Books, or Tenth Avenue Tomes, or Grande LibrerÃa Infierno?
What are some of your favorite bookstores?
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