Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Throw Momma from the Train

Had a wonderful time in the Big City. Word on the Street was a Blast.
Publishing houses flogging new releases and back titles, libraries selling books by the bag, literacy pleas, underground presses, little presses, big presses, poetry contests, writer's groups, chapbooks, author entrepreneurs, 144,000 bookmarks. Maddened hoards of book lovers, dogs, kids, food vendors, blue port-a-potties.
Emerging from the subway, we were immediately accosted by someone giving away the "Truth About Islam" or somesuch. He was pathetically grateful we did not point and scream "suicide bomber" as he pressed his softcover into our unveiled hands. The pavilions beyond looked like the Franks camped before Jerusalem - our Grail.
So many books. Cheap. Ah, sheer greed overwhelmed my pack horse capacity. Got Northrup Fry, Sythian Gold, Medieval Warfare, free crime books, the Lindfisfarne Gospels, 10 lb. books, glossies, paperbacks. Next time I will bring a truck.
Met and exchanged kisses with the charming and gallant head of the House of Anansi. Hoot! And no, I did NOT mention I was a writer looking for same. Set me up for the rest of the day though.
It was splendid.
Then I had to come home.
Our train was stopped at Oshawitz. There had been a derailment up the track. Busses were promised momentarily to haste us onward to our appointed and various destinations.
They lied.
We sat. And sat. And sat.
I read 200 pages to pass time. My seatmate passed gas.
I began a sotto voce subversion about hijacking a bus. The only two passengers capable of running down a dog were running an ETA pool.
The harrased conductor had a cold. I had Halls. I got to walk outside the cattle car.
I got home about 2:00 A.M. via, bus and taxi.
Entered two more MommyCorp observations:
A seatmate that yaps your ear off is better in certain circumstances than one who is inarticulate with an accent as thick as fog.
It's easy to leave home. Coming back again is hard.


Stephen Newton said...

Wow, what a day! I'm so disconnected from the book world's fuss and hoopla, but I'm hoping I can cointinue writing without being in it.

Odd. Been having those same impending change feelings of a "terrible beauty."

Good way to describe the impending crush, Bernita.

Is Canada a good place to live these days or is it as doomed as the US?

Bernita said...

Canada is a VERY good place to live, it is not necessarily better, just different.There is a certain degree of interdependency.
How one lives depends largely on one's self.
Sometimes people fear they might not be able to scrape up enough attack mode energy to deal with change, a sort of been-there-done-that lassitude.
Change is not doomsaying.

Robyn said...

Glad you're back.

Mike Myers said Canada is just like America, only not as much. True?

Elektra said...

Hi...saw your post on my blog and thought I'd check yours out. Trains suck. Mine was once delayed four hours because...get this...a branch got stuck to the bottom of the train and somehow caught fire. Ah, for the good old days of the horse-and-buggy

Bonnie Calhoun said...

Bernita, it sounds like you had a wonderful time. Next time take one of those folding carts on wheels. you can haul a ton in them.

And Stephen, I beg to differ with you, the US is not doomed. there are to many Christians praying for it!

Bernita said...

Thank you, Robyn. Nooo, we're different, but exactly how is hard to say.
Elektra, horses get spavins and black water and go lame and...
Bonnie, was thinking of those carts all that day, but I'd given mine away.
I did have a wonderful time.