in the shadow of the shadow of the shh

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Lately I've been hanging out after work at Barnes and Noble. Tuesday There was a photographer talking about his really large book of photographs taken in the year following 9/!!/2001 at the WTC site. Last night Art Spiegelman was there with his collaborator Francoise Mouly. They were talking alternately about 9/!!/2001, the New Yorker, and their book, In the Shadow of No Towers.

I was/am interested in hearing eyewitness stories about 9/!!/2001, events leading up to as well as events following. But what made Speigelman Ultra fascinating was learning that he made the stickers for Wacky Pacs, the chewing-gum/comic sticker thing that my brother and I collected adamantly in the early seventies.

I have to admit that I also was intrigued to meet the art editor of the New Yorker. Nita showed up and entertained me while we stood in line to get books signed. I just realized that I forgot to pay for this book. Ooops.

Afterwards, Krishna, Lyndon, and Krishna's friend Alex and I hung out, ate, looked at the NYU library and talked about Corporate Finance and other matters.

alt alt alto

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so...I left the bookstore early and raced home to see the season premier of the Simpsons. I know that is so true it is sad. Especially when I got home at 1o after 8 and couldn't figure out that the tv wasn't working because it was on channel 2 instead of 3 and sort of freaked out unplugging and re-plugging things. Finally, I went into Z's room and watched the last ten minutes in there.
(it was good. sopranosesque with cooking jokes which I appreciated greatly.)

I feel like life is wobblin along like some bizarre contraption with less wheels and more gizmos than one might expect or need. I don't know what that means.

sept sept september

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so I not really feeling like i want to write but I am just because it's something I thing is good for me like vitamins or excercize or following through with a commitmitment that doesn't sound as fun at the appointed time as it did when the appointment was made...speaking of appointments, I should try to see a dentist soon...sigh.

It is a truely beautiful day. Last night I met a really good old friend on 14th st who helped me feel slightly less bizarre and gave me music. Next to me is a donut of cat. My internet connection is working and Bernardo hasn't turned off the electricity.

Soon I'll go hang out in the garden and maybe read a book. then I will hang out and drink wine and meet people who are coming to look at the room we have for rent.

la la la labor unions

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So labor day has some extra-special signifigance for me now that i belong to a labor union that belongs to coalitions of labor unions.

Especially this year since I reciently turned to the UAW for help when I felt I was being harrassed by management at the bookstore with some very curious suprise "vacations".

The people at our local office were helpful and supportive. I can't say that they were not. These suspensions and the written criticisms that came with them were so absurd and defaming I couldn't really not not-dispute them. I still feel like they were some kind of prod designed to force me to run to the union for help.

So Horace from the local office came to talk to managers involved...managers who I thought of as friends but on paper looked like they didn't know me from the dead baby rat found head-smashed on the sidewalk outside my building this morning. I was accused of clocking in late, taking too long of a lunch break, having to be told to get back to work, and staring off into space.

The wierdest part is that supposedly Nancy, the corperation president told Bibbi that she had personally asked me to "get back to work" on a day that she never spoke to me. As she handed me the suspension form, Bibbi said she saw me shelving and had no idea what Nancy was talking about.

Horace talked with Will, the shop steward for the main floor and Bibi, the manager I most adore.

He talked with me and suggested that I make sure I let a manager know when I am going to lunch and look like I am working when Nancy the corperation president is around. The general concensus between Will, Horace and Bibi seems to be that Nancy is crazy, therefore absurdity reigns.

So...we shrugged, we shook hands, we made a friendly-but-not to-friendly half embrace and I went back to shelving cookbooks.