Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/22

I took a chance today, forgoing the viaduct despite the threat of rain, and it paid off. I sold all the children's books I had on display, including a large one on Bible stories. Thanks, folks.
Last night I caught up to Red (2010), courtesy of Netflix. It is a fairly standard thriller, despite a star-studded cast: Willis, Malkovich, Freeman, Mirren, Dreyfus, Borgnine, and Rebecca Pidgeon and Karl Urban. Ernest Borgnine is in his 90's and still sharp as a tack. The film was too droll to be exciting and not witty enough to be satirical. It never rose above amusing. It was directed by Robert Schwentke, who did episodes of Fox's Lie To Me. On a scale of five: two-and-a-half.
After the movie I channel-surfed and came upon the premiere of Combat Hospital on ABC. Although it is far more serious, the show will arouse inevitable comparisons to MASH. In fact, there was a real familiarity to the stress and marathon work sessions the unit faced, which was captured excellently in its beloved predecessor. Even though humor is minimal, I don't know if the program will offer any new insight into the situation. Of course, all these years later the depiction of sex and violence is more graphic, and the language more liberal in prime time. I will watch more episodes. The cast is appealing. I believe the audience's connection to the characters rather than the sensational aspects will determine the future of the series. I loved MASH when it first aired, but now find it lacking whenever I run across a rerun.
Read Vic's stories, free:
http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/21

"Summer's here and the time is right for dancin' in the streets." So sang Martha and the Vandellas way back when, before I was born - not! The lyrics were written by William Stevenson and Marvin Gaye.
It was a quiet day at the floating bookshop. My man, Bob Rubenstein, author of Ghost Runners, stopped by, and I later found an email from him containing a file of most of his second novel, a work in progress, The White Bridge. I will toil at weeding out any errors. I appreciate his confidence in me.
I finally sold Jimmy Carter's Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid, to a nice young man. I'd had it for so long I figured the ex-peanut farmer had fallen too low in the eyes of Americans to generate interest, even in ultra-liberal New York. The former president puts the onus for the conflict on Israel. As I see it, the Palestinians and the rest of the Arab world will not be satisfied with anything less than the destruction of Israel. That is not a plan for peace. Meanwhile, Muslims live and work in the Jewish state and even serve in its parliament. Mossad agents assassinate terrorists and Israeli leadership apologizes if the innocent are caught in the crossfire. Muslims exult at the killing of women and children by homicide bombers. It's old news.
Esther kept me company the last hour. Her son, 32, is not living right, asking her for money while driving around in a Mercedes. Sounds like some tough love is in order. Easy for me to say, I guess, as I don't have any children.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/20

It was perfect weather-wise today in Brooklyn. I sold the last of Marie's CD donation, The Best of the Hollies and Stormy Weather, a standards compilation featuring modern artists such as Joni Mitchell and Stevie Nicks. The biggest surprise on that disc was comedienne Sandra Bernhard's solid take on a song made famous by Peggy Lee, Is That All There Is? It doesn't seem like a hard song to pull off, but she isn't a real singer, as far as I know, and she did it live. It must have been a charitable event. It's a good introduction to standards. My only quibble is that the tempo hardly varied from start to finish. Thanks to the security guard, who had purchased several CDs in the past. He was disappointed that the two were all there was/is. Thanks also to Susan, who bought a couple of books, and a woman who took three.
I got my daily visit from Lawrence, who is mildly autistic. He calls me Mr. Books. He is frequently involved in mischief. This morning he closed the security door leading to the courtyard of our complex, drawing the wrath of housewives who don't have keys, which are $25 each, and who travel in and out throughout the day. His aim was to keep cats and bugs out of the building, or so he says. Later, he said a friend has challenged him to follow his lead and take off his clothes on the train the next time they are on it, and asked what I thought. I said he would probably be arrested and get a beat down from his dad, who would have to bail him out.
When I was in my last years at the commodity exchange, there was a young data entry reporter in the Gold Options market who spooked everyone. I'm pretty sure Van was harmless, but he was odd, keeping chicken bones in the pockets of his yellow work jacket. He was eventually let go, well before the purges that began in 2007. He lives in Sheepshead Bay and has passed the floating bookshop many times. I didn't think he remembered me. The other day he suddenly called out my name. He seemed surprised I knew his. He passed again today, without recognition, although I greeted him. I wondered if it was a matter of his having forgone his meds. He did say hi on the way back, though. Life is unfair for some.
Read Vic's stories, free:
http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/19

Just two months after his meltdown at the Masters, Rory McIlroy blew away the field at the U.S. Open at the Congressional Country Club in Maryland. He became the youngest player ever to win the tournament, and he set the record for the lowest score at -16, winning by eight shots. Normally, I would not watch such a rout, as it lacks the drama that makes professional golf so great. Given what happened to the young man at Augusta National, it was must see TV for fans. I had a lump in my throat as he hugged his dad at the finish. Incredibly, men from tiny Northern Ireland have captured the last two U.S. Opens, Graeme McDowell having won last year. And it was interesting to hear the NBC announcers go on and on about McIlroy's potential, obviously praying he will do for the game what Tiger Woods did before his troubles. Well done, Rory.
On a sad note, saxophonist Clarence Clemons has passed away at 69. The Big Man, as he was affectionately known, added so much color to Bruce Springsteen's songs. The E Street Band will never be the same without him. RIP, sir. I will always love your joyous work on Rosalita.
I knew it would be a good day on the street when the affable Carmine showed up as I was setting up shop on Bay Parkway. He threw a scare into me when he mentioned what he thought was an error in logic in my story Threes, which is part of the A Hitch in Twilight collection. The story has to do with the myth of famous people dying in threes. He thought there were only two at one point. I checked. There were three - whew! Not only was Carmine nice enough to purchase How To Be Your Own Best Friend (1986), he returned a while later with a donation of six books, including two non-fictions that were snapped up by Miguel, who has become a regular, a while later. He even overpaid. And I could barely contain my amusement when I spotted Bob in the distance. Several times he has asked if I had Warren Zevon's Werewolves of London. Zevon's Best of Collection was part of Marie's latest donation. Bob was thrilled.
Thanks, guys - it was big of you.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/18

Thanks to the young lady who purchased a thriller today outside the Dolphin Gym.
Greg Iles has written 13 best sellers in the thriller genre. I just finished 24 Hours (2000). It traveled familiar territory for the most part until a spectacular, unusual chase sequence at the end. I chose it over the other two Iles books David had donated, as it is less than 340 pages. That, I contend, is the proper length for a thriller. The writing is rock solid. One line, reminiscent of Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett, had me laughing out loud: "The smile on her face was as forced as an Avon lady's on a poor street..." The novel was transformed to the screen as Trapped (2002), starring Charlize Theron, Kevin Bacon, Stuart Townsend, Courtney Love and Dakota Fanning. I'm tempted to rent it, despite knowing the story line. I'm curious as to how closely the novel was followed. The screenplay was written by Iles as well. Iles grew up in Mississippi, where the novel is set. He founded the rock band Frankly Scarlet but was forced to quit when touring made family life impossible. He turned to writing and almost immediately found success. He also plays in that band comprised of Dave Barry, Stephen King, Amy Tan, etc. On a scale of five, I rate 24 Hours three-and-a-half. Of the 15 or so thrillers I've sampled, I still find Tami Hoag's A Thin, Dark Line far superior to the others.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/17

What luck. I didn't expect to set up shop today, as the forecast called for a lot of rain. But when I went outside at eleven AM, I saw a substantial swath of blue sky. I thought I'd give it a shot, hoping to get in an hour or so. A Latino laborer who has purchased several CDs noticed the new batch and took ten, including two holdovers from Marie's previous donation, obscure works I figured would never sell. Gracias, amigo. I have three left: Best of Warren Zevon (ah oooh!), the Best of the Hollies and a standard compilation featuring modern artists, which I will test out on my car's CD player tomorrow.
A while later an 84-year-old veteran, who has donated a couple of bags of romance novels he picked up at the VA, brought me a beautiful coffee table book, A Celebration of the Friars Club, which he asked that I not sell but keep. Needless to say, I was touched, as it features famous caricatures of Al Hirschfeld, including Jack Benny, Groucho and Jimmy Durante. And it's in mint condition. I will treasure it, even though I don't have a coffee table. Selling it would be, as my mother used to say, an infamia.  The gentleman also gave me a large, unusual tome, Tatiana's Magical Compendium, which contains spells and rituals to help the lovelorn. Thank you, sir.
And the day was made complete when lovely young Alisa came strolling along, headset in place. She noticed a small hardcover copy of A Farewell to Arms, which actor-singer Johnny Feets donated when he moved. It is a 1932 Modern Library edition. I had Arlynn, who sells books through Amazon, look up its value, just in case. She almost had a heart attack when she saw $17,000, but that was for the 1929 edition. The 1932 is worth two to seven dollars. I let Alisa have it for one. She walked away sniffing it, as she loves the smell of old books. Thanks, miss. She has such a positive demeanor. 
Read Vic's stories, free:
http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/16

Congratulations to the Boston Bruins, Stanley Cup Champions. While I always root for the team that has never won a championship, in this case Vancouver, it was clear the Bruins were the better team, routing the Canucks at home, narrowly losing on the road until the game seven shutout. The Bruins' defense and goal-tending were phenomenal. It seemed Vancouver rarely had a rebound to swat at. And it sure seemed like they fanned on a lot of shots in good scoring position. All of Bean Town's sports teams, Bruins, Sox, Celtics, Pats, are solid. I wonder if someone has compiled a statistic on the best winning percentage in a single season among the cities that have franchises in the four major sports.
Between periods I did some channel surfing. PBS was running NOVA, exploring the gift of musical ability. As someone who has been struggling with guitar since 1975 - and knows he doesn't have such a gift - the program caught my attention immediately. We've all been astounded by child prodigies. How does it happen? How can they be more proficient than those who work decades on their craft? It is a mystery that may never be answered. The film-makers first focused on a young autistic man, blind since birth, who is able to play pieces by classical geniuses. In all other phases of his life he has the mind of a four-year-old. The PHD doing the investigating played a recording of a complicated jazz piece - and the guy was able to play it note for note on one listen, and throw in improvisational notes! Later, a teenager who suffers Tourette's Syndrome was  featured. His tics cease entirely whenever he is drumming, and what a drummer he is. The mysteries of life never cease to astonish.
Thanks to the kind folks who purchased books today, especially to the woman who is eight months pregnant, her third child.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/