Street in a strange world

This afternoon I went to the bookstore.  I used to go to the bookstore quite regularly before Shawn gave me his Kindle and insisted I learn to use it.  (Now I have a bookstore in my bed with me when I finish a book at midnight and want another one straight away - something that happens more often than one might imagine.)

But I went to the bookstore today.  I went because I had a gift card, the kind that must be spent in the store, and so I thought I would try to find something that was only available in the store.  Normally bookstores are a bit of a religious homecoming for me, but for some reason today my heart was not open to it.  None of my favourite authors had anything new, except Margaret Atwood and damn her anyway.  The gift card was only for fifteen dollars and eventually after looking at everything in the store I decided to waste the money on a blue bracelet.

Why does my bookstore sell blue bracelets? you ask.  I have no idea, but they don't just sell blue.  They also have pink and purple.  But I chose blue and marched it up to the front counter where I was greeted by a cashier who looked at my purchase and asked if I had found everything I was looking for.  As if perhaps I had also been looking for the matching necklace and earrings.  I wanted to scream, "Don't judge me!  I read!  Seriously, I love books!"  Instead I confirmed my shallowness by receiving a text message, loudly, while she was explaining their school book donation program.  I refused to make a donation because I have already donated to this program, but the cashier had no way of knowing that and undoubtedly assumed I was saving my hard earned cash for more jewelry.

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I decided to write a bit more porn.  The publisher contacted me and offered me an advance which made it all the more tempting.  I can see my pay in blue bookstore bracelets already.




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