The Writer's Life 8/12 - Angst

In her op-ed piece in today's NY Post, Selena Zito suggests the angst, the intense focus on special elections is misguided, as they "...don’t usually predict a party’s fate in the midterms. The Democrats lost all their special elections leading up to the 2006 midterms only to flip the House by 30 seats; four years later the Republicans lost all their special elections going into the 2010 midterms — and went on to trounce the Democrats by winning 63 seats back..." How cool that others research this stuff, allowing the rest of us short cuts so that we may pursue our interests outside the disenchanting arena of politics. Thank you, madam.

Also in the Post, here's how sports media critic Phil Mushnick concluded the main part of his column today: "...The players, team owners and Roger Goodell deserve one another. And as their product — their business — grows more insufferable by the season, they continue to pretend that they have nothing to worry about." Right on, sir. Kudos... There's an article at Yahoo Sports about Miami police wanting to boycott Dolphins' games because of the kneelers. I doubt politicians would allow it, but suppose many cops colluded in a sick-out?

Yesterday the chance of rain seemed 100%. Today it seemed 50-50, so I took a chance and set up shop on Bay Parkway, and things worked out much better than I'd expected. My thanks to the woman who bought a book in Russian, and to Bill Brown, author of Words and Guitar: A History of Lou Reed's Music, who purchased two CD's: Louis Armstrong Plays WC Handy and Duke Ellington's Blues in Orbit... Happy 79th birthday to Bob. As a gift, I let him select a book from the display, and he chose a bio of Samuel Beckett, master of the theater of the absurd. He was waiting - not for Godot - but for his son and grandkids to take him shopping. They're giving him a new Iphone... Now for the best part. A middle age couple has passed the floating book shop countless times. For several years neither said a word, then they began greeting me warmly. Today the man asked if I had any books on Biology or Archeology. I don't. Then he asked if I had anything on Italian-Americans. Most writers would be thrilled at such an opening to promote their work. I always think: Suppose he hates it? Fortunately I overcame the reluctance and he purchased Close to the Edge, the first and most downbeat of my novels. I was hoping he'd select Killing. My thanks. After that, I decided not to tempt fate and closed up shop, about an hour earlier than usual. It was pouring by the time I got to Sheepshead Bay and parked the car. Some days you just get lucky.
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