Mickey Z

Cool Observer

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Saturday, December 31, 2005

In search of "classics"

The last Storytelling Saturday of 2005

Once upon a time…

When your neighborhood gets hip, one benefit involves the sudden appearance of used books for sale on the street...in Astoria’s case: near the 30th Avenue station of the elevated N/W Train line.

On my way to the city for a rare pleasure trip (to look for used books: coincidence), I see tables straining under teetering towers of paperbacks…mostly bearing Fabio’s likeness (Astoria hasn’t changed that much).

I approach the bookseller…scanning his face for familiarity: Was he in that documentary (http://tinyurl.com/a82kr) I saw? (No)

“Got any Bukowski?” I ask
“Who?” he squints into the mid-day sun.
“Charles Bukowski.”
“That’s a classic, right?”
His accent is vaguely Slavic…his eyes scan the browsers as he reminds them:
“Fifty cents.”

“Well,” I smile, “that’s a matter of opinion, I guess.”
My attempt at literary humor is, for some reason, lost on him. The bookseller shrugs: “I don’t think I have any.”

(Sorry, Buk)

I thank him and ascend the stairs to the train…still needing Manhattan for the “real” stuff. Probably better off that way.

Who’s got one last story for 2005?

+++

I chose the above story as a convenient segue for my New Year’s Eve quote from (who else?) Mr. Bukowski:

Hank sez:
“Well, I’ve built my own little dungheap and here I sit flinging the shit about. There are minor and major regrets. And it’s a hell of a thing to say but—I never met another man I’d rather be. And even if that’s a delusion, it’s a lucky one.”