I spoiled an otherwise good day at the floating bookshop by doing something cowardly. Political Man stopped by on his return from a pot run. This batch was dubbed AK 47 by his dealer. Anyway, he engaged a neighbor in conversation, both excoriating the political right. I remained silent, but that wasn't the bit of cowardice that disappointed me. I see no point in arguing politics. When the other guy left, PM asked if I were married, and I succumbed to homophobia and said yes. I didn't want him to get any ideas. Then he asked if I still had sex with my wife. "Yeah," I said, wondering if I looked too old for getting jiggy with it. I wasn't surprised by his forwardness. It's his nature. He added that he and his partner no longer did the nasty, as it had become boring. This was more information than I needed. My flesh crawled. I have no objection to man love. I'd just rather not think about it or have people expect me to approve of it. I regret that I lied and now have to hope he doesn't broach the subject in the presence of someone who knows me. An apology would be excruciating.
Buyers and donors showed up today as I returned to my usual nook at Avenue Z & E. 13th. A Russian gentleman who walks his dog past the floating bookshop every day, tugging at its leash each time it pauses and lifts a leg, dropped off four books in his native tongue, one of which was purchased almost immediately. Moses, a Latino, gave me a couple of large tomes. As we expected, the one on healthy eating sold quickly. Ali Baba hustled over from his gyro stand and handed me a bunch of religious books the 84-year-old vet had left with him. A black woman bought the one on Jesus. I sold four other books in Russian, a Mary Higgins Clarke thriller, and a DVD of Cradle Will Rock (1999), which Steve, the poet laureate of Sheepshead Bay purchased. The film is centered around a leftist musical in the 1930's. Steve had just seen an opera based on leftist auteur Lars Von Trier's Dancer in the Dark (2000), which starred Bjork and Catherine Daneuve. I've seen it, even believe I liked it, but don't remember much about it. Von Trier is a darling of critics. I wonder if it's because of his politics. I remember liking Breaking the Waves (1996), in which Emily Watson is stunning, and being baffled and bored by Dogville (2003).
Thanks, folks.
As I logged onto the Classic Oldies stream, it was playing the Human Beinz's Nobody But Me, which always reminds me of my freshman year, 1967. My buddy Bruce, who was on a football scholarship, and I were walking down a street toward a party and that song was blasting from an apartment. Above it, we heard Earl, a huge junior tackle, whose voice rose above the din in what was the greeting of that particular time: "Hey, Bitch!" We both laughed. "Nobody can do boogaloo like I do."
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