here's a little about me, if you can bare it.

During the day I work in a bookshop, the kind of place where suits chase paperbacks by the dozen, choosing by the charts what to read or buy for the bookshelf (ornamental) - filling (as it does) the space between the cherry veneer dining set and the flatscreen tv (HD ready), all parked upon 36 ounce tufted yarn, light grey, plush, no major stains.

Not that I resent the job, or our customers- many of which are very astute and scholarly, as their choice of literature attests. Swathes visit in pursuit of "that book by da vinci", and yet, prolific novelist as he was (one of the great romantics, I've heard) his works never seem to be in stock - let alone in print - and my hand is forced to recommend an antiquarian stockist (which may or may not be against company policy)... Regardless, the momentary, fleeting, almost serendipitous occasions when a joyce or a pynchon or a greene or a chandler (dear, dear raymond) a gogol, thomas,ginsberg or easton ellis (farewell accumulated credibility) pass through my hands and into a non-biodegradable bag serve to sustain both the job itself, and, when reread, the overly-melodramtic intonation of this prose...

Besides, I'm only working there because I dropped out of (grad) school and have nothing to do until january rolls around again and renews my academic inclination and purpose. I've got to keep myself in coffee and fruit pies somehow, have enough spare for demerara and ice cream, the occasional bottle of rye and books to spill it on and a sunday double bill here or there. Four hours a day, four bestselling hours a day, four three-for-two, two-pounds off, not-on-the-weekends hours a day, that's all, nothing more,.. nothing more.

So, to this blog, it's purpose (scant) and focus (bleary).

-It may last a week, two weeks, a month, or longer -just as long as anyone can endure it, including me.

-It'll probably be about nothing in particular, aside from that which can be read/watched/visited/slept through.

-Until I can figure out how to go about writing it, third and first person tenses will most likely be muddled together, and any semblance of a coherent narrative style should be considered accidental.

That's all I've really thought about or considered, without wasting reams of time staring at a computer screen. As an aside, today I began reading a new book, Michio Kaku's 'Parallel Worlds'- (a theoretical exploration of concepts of plural dimensionality, string theory and other universe-al topics), having decided that a sojourn away from Roth's 'American Pastoral' would aid completion of said text in the long term. On saturday last, I went to see the Da Vinci Code, and feel all the better for knowing that I won't have to see it again (more on that later). Finally, well, there is no finally.

next: "killer in the blog"blwfly